I have in front of me a green, crinkled sheet of paper with the words “interim report” printed in solid blue caps in the upper left corner. This is a fourth-quarter notice that my chemistry teacher sent home to my parents when I was a junior in high school.

The report described my academic performance as “poor” and noted that I was “not passing” the course. On the charitable side, my teacher noted my attendance was regular, that I seemed interested in the subject and that I appeared to try. My teacher recommended that I prepare more for class, seek help after school, and take a “more serious approach.”

“He has not passed a test or quiz thus far for this quarter,” my teacher wrote.

I wonder why I have kept this progress report for the past 25 years. I unearthed it from a footlocker of mementos a few years ago and it has floated around my house since.

I’ve gotta say, looking back all these years later, my teacher called it as he saw it and the report was right on the money. I was as interested in chemistry as I could be, and I did try. But I definitely could have taken a more serious approach. I had two personas in school. If a subject came naturally to me, or if I could finally grasp it after studying hard, then I was a model student in class. If, however, I could not understand a subject despite my efforts, I would get restless and become ... well, not a class clown, but maybe a class comedian.

My chemistry teacher held up two rocks, high up near his head. In one hand, he held a large rock. In the other, he held a smaller stone.

“Which one of these has the most density?” he asked.

“The one in the middle,” I replied, meaning his head.

Ho, ho. I recently asked this former teacher of mine why I never got a detention or got sent to the office, either for that remark or other antics. I liked his answer.

“You were harmless,” he said.

Evidently, he’d see the glint in my eye and know I was just kidding. There was no malice there on my part, no desire to undermine his authority in front of his students. He’d zing me too. It was our rapport. Our chemistry, you could say.

I took his class, High Honors Chemistry, so that I could play to my strength that year and take French Honors. There is no doubt I belonged in the B-level chemistry class, but it was offered during the French Honors one. So I rolled the dice and took Chemistry Honors so I could enroll in French Honors.

In Chemistry Honors, I flailed with C’s and D’s and flirted with an F. In French Honors, I had a 98 or a 99 average. There was something about the French language that I just completely got. But Chemistry? It was Greek to me.

Nowadays, I subscribe to the notion that youth is wasted on the young. At 42 years old, I understand that completely. As a child and teenager, I concentrated on having fun and was carefree and happy-go-lucky as a result. “You were a free spirit,” my former Chemistry teacher told me. In college, I started to become more serious-minded about learning and growing and becoming proficient in either this or that. Now, as a husband, father and professional, I am even more so. I’m on a never-ending self-improvement kick, trying to learn as much as I can by reading and doing. Where was this guy in Chemistry class a quarter of a century ago?

These days, I’m tempted to sit down with my former chemistry teacher and say, “Okay, explain all that stuff to me again.” I’m sure now I could understand Chemistry, at least on a high school or college level, because I would focus on it, listen intently, and stay on it until I had it. That’s the key to success in life. Persistence. That, and showing up.

If ever I did want to sit down with my former Chemistry teacher, I’d have no problem arranging a meeting with him. That’s because he’s John Cochin, the sports editor here at the Sanford News.

And now we come to the real reason why I wanted to write this column. I often enjoy and marvel at the way life sometimes plays out. Not works out, like everything’s a problem that needs solving, but plays out. Back during the 1988-1989 school year, neither John nor I would have ever guessed that we’d end up working together at the local hometown newspaper. To be sure, he already was the sports editor for the Sanford News at that time, and as an adolescent I had delivered the paper, but still. Working side by side as editors in the new millennium? No.

A couple of weeks ago, the Maine Interscholastic Athletic Administrators Association presented John with a media award that recognized his 34 years as a sports writer and the positive impact he has had in championing local athletes and sports programs. Last week, I got to write the story about it and place it where it belonged — the front page.

That’s what I like. Life often plays out in fun little ways we could never imagine. Few people get to work with their former teachers. I’ve enjoyed working alongside John these past eight years that I’ve been the editor here at the Sanford News. I like that I was here and able to write a story about John Cochin, my high school chemistry teacher. I consider that an honor and a privilege and even a marvel — a marvel because, yes, back in the day when I tried this man’s patience, benefitted from his mercy and understanding, and, according to him, had a constant you-know-what-eating grin, who woulda thunk it?